


Bucky's Bistro Dates

by WhereAnaWrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Language, Light Angst, Mild Blood, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, mentions and use of a needle for stitching, mentions of end game events, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 09:51:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20172283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereAnaWrites/pseuds/WhereAnaWrites
Summary: A Bistro owner is witness to Bucky Barnes bad dates.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
I wrote this for a writing challenge on tumblr  
My prompt for that writing challenge was: "If you don’t give me caffeine right now, I cannot guarantee your safety." // "please just take your clothes off and shut up."

Thunder rolls softly through the dark grey storm clouds as the faint pitter-patter of rain land among windows. People scurry along the streets under the protection of umbrellas, raincoats, and the occasional open newspaper. A side glance at the vintage clock on the wall gives the time of the evening, and what should be a busier dinner rush. Instead, Rory blows out a sigh through her lips, a stray strand of caramel brown hair fluttering up. She pushes herself up from leaning across the bar top. 

It could be worse, she guesses, as she glances around the dining area of Rikki’s Bistro. Storms usually keep the restaurants occupancy down, but it never seems to stop the regulars from popping in. At least it’s not a snowstorm, and at least she was able to reopen the bistro after _The Blip_ was reversed- three years later. Rory had witnessed the utter horror, confusion and chaos as her employees and diners started crumbling into ash, fading away.

Those long, dark years are moments of her life that still haunt her dreams. There were people who got very lucky, losing only a few people they loved, some still had whole families. Others had lost more than they could handle; lost whole families.

Nearly everyone Rory ever cared for vanished. Only her Nonna remained. Rory had closed the restaurant down, opting to recollect herself, and help take care of her grandmother full time in the absence of her caretakers.

Three years later, everyone who vanished, abruptly started to reappear. The minute Rory realized some type of miracle had happened, she took off to the bistro. Seeing the baffled faces of the same people who had screamed and turned to dust, made her fall to her knees as tears overcame her.

That was nearly a year ago. Now, due to the popular demand of her restored friends, employees and diners, Rikki’s Bistro was reopen for business. Not to mention it was her Nonna’s dying wish; the woman lasting a good one-hundred years. She survived through a Depression, a few wars, and the Blip. Rory couldn’t refuse her. She sees her grandmother's eyes in her own blue ones whenever she looks in the mirror. Rory had to make her proud.

Currently she serves a glass of red wine with a bright smile, bags a whole tiramisu cake from the pastry display, and pours cappuccinos as the rain continues to fall. Rory had gone back to dealing with payrolls, product ordering, work schedules, and trying her patience when the handful of customers complain once in a while about something they didn’t deem worthy of their time.

Rory is just finished with refilling the coffee filters, turning to grab a damp cloth to wipe the counter. It’s then that she spots someone peering into the bistro. The windows have fogged up a bit, as the person takes their hand to wipe a streak clear from the glass. From the distance behind the bar, Rory makes out the person as a man, his eyes roaming around the tables and layout of the bistro. He seems oddly familiar.

She quirks an eyebrow, guessing he’s looking to see if there are any tables open. Rory is about to gesture for his attention, that yes, he is welcomed in and maybe take shelter from the storm. Before she can however, the man’s lips lift into a satisfied smirk. Then he’s gone, walking away so fast, Rory believes he blended in with the shadows. She shrugs, going back to wiping down the bar top.

A few hours later, just as she’s about to close for the night, the phone rings. The shrill noise of it startles Rory, nearly causing her to drop the empty whiskey glass in her hand. The employees that remain are busy sweeping and counting their receipts and she hopes the caller doesn’t want to order something big, just minutes before they close.

“_Buongiorno_! Thank you for calling Rikki’s, how can I help you?” She greets professionally, trying to keep her voice chipper despite the time.

“Uh- Hi,” The caller responds. If Rory hears his tone properly, he sounds apprehensive. “Yeah, do you take reservations?”

Soundlessly fist pumping that it’s not a food order, Rory smiles. “Yes, we do! When would you like to make the reservation?”

“Tomorrow. If, um, if that’s not too short of a notice?”

“Not at all! We’re open for lunch from eleven to two and dinner from four to eleven-thirty. Which would you like?”

“Dinner, um, seven, if that’s okay? For two.”

Rory quickly opens the seating chart on the computer, inputting the reservation. “Perfect time,” She tells him happily, the poor man sounds nervous. “I just need a name to put it under and you’re all set.”

“A name…” The man’s voice sounds strained. “Right. Uh, J-James.”

“Alright, James. Your reservation is all set for tomorrow night at seven.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, have a good night!”

“Yeah- y-you too.”

Rory hangs up the phone with a funny little smile. “I think we got a potential first date reservation tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder.

“Ooh, for table six, right? The _ambiance_ one?” One waitress named Maggie questions.

Rory snaps and points her finger to imply that Maggie is correct. Another twenty minutes pass before she’s shutting off the lights and locking the doors.

*

A loud clash of thunder is muffled by the thick bulletproof windows, but the irritated groan Bucky releases is not. He tosses yet another tie over his shoulder, nearly hitting Wanda in the face. He watches her reflection in the mirror as she lazily waves her hand to stop the silk cloth with her powers. She gives him a good-nature glare in return.

“That’s the fourth tie, Bucky,” She sighs, adding said object to the other three. “It’s just one date, try not to overthink it.”

Bucky chews on the inside of his cheek in lieu of responding. _One date_. One date, decades after his last one. One date, after decades with Hydra. One date, after yet another war that did not end in his, or many others, favor. One date, after coming back from an empty void, picking up on the same fight. One date, after losing his best friend to time.

He understands Steve’s choice. He does, but it still doesn’t stop the sharp bitterness that burns in his throat. Doesn’t stop the nasty feeling of abandonment still twisting in his gut despite eleven months passing.

Like always, Bucky swallows back the feeling, refocusing on his outfit. Wanda, bless her, has offered to help, giving the best advice and support to him as she can. She even tied back half of his hair into a little bun.

“Fuck it,” He grumbles, giving up on the ties, snatching his leather jacket from the bed instead. “It’s not a fancy shindig, right?”

Wanda chuckles as he forces his arms through the sleeves. “Shindig? No. Just wear what makes you feel comfortable, like I said earlier.”

“I just-“ Bucky halts, shoving his hand through his hair before realizing it’s pull back. Once he’s done messing up the strands, he stares at his left hand.

“I just want to make a good impression.” What he means is: _are people still frightened of me?_

Something soft hits the back of his head, making him roll his eyes. He finally turns to face the young woman. Wanda is smiling, the red glow fading away from her fingers. There’s no judgement in her green eyes, just compassion, and comprehension.

When the topic of Bucky putting himself “out there” came up, he retaliated with the same question to Sam as well. Sam, with his bright laugh and teasing jibes mentioned he didn’t need to get back into the dating pool, especially not since he took over the moniker of Captain America. Wanda, with a wound still fresh in her heart from Vision’s death, remained silent with a sadness around her eyes.

That same emotion lingers on her expression now, and she looks like she’s aged several years. When she blinks her expression clears. Wanda leans forward, gently grabbing Bucky’s vibranium fingers. His throat tightens with the comforting notion.

“You have a great heart, Bucky, despite everything life threw at you. That’s the most important thing someone can have. Not their looks, not their past, but the goodness of their hearts.”

Bucky squeezes her hand back in gratitude. He’s got a quip on his tongue, mostly self-deprecating, but in a moment of rarity, he accepts it. It’s what he’s been trying to work on in therapy.

“Thank you, Wanda. That means more to me than you think.”

She pats the back of his hand with her other one, before pulling back. “Just remember to have fun, and if you need an out, just text me.”

“Fun. Right,” He repeats, glancing over his shoulder at his reflection.

_Fun._

*

Another stormy night doesn’t keep away that seven o’clock reservation. James shows up, a man who Rory had vaguely recognized, but she was too busy with a phone call to fully acknowledge it. Not long after he showed up, a blonde woman comes in to greet him. There had been a break in the rain afterwards, which brought in more people into Rikki’s.

Rory is grateful for it. What she isn’t thrilled about, is having to adjust the sixth check from the same waiter, who keeps inputting the wrong orders and prices. It doesn’t help the growing headache behind her eyes either. Two of her bartenders had called out sick, leaving Rory serving the bar by herself.

Happy hour had her making drinks left and right, nonstop for nearly two hours. The sounds of the storm, the laughing and chattering, the clinks of silverware against dinner plates, and the excited whispering all faded away into background noise.

Rory pays no mind to the lull in the sounds as she overrides the current check in her hand. She’s too occupied with double checking the correct amount on the newly printed receipt, that she doesn’t notice the person standing, _leaning_, abnormally close over the bar top. When she finally glances up, she startles, dropping the receipt.

“Jesus! Warn a girl, will ya!” Rory scolds, her heart fluttering in surprise.

A tall man with broad shoulders, long hair half pulled back exposing a strong jaw dusted with soft hair, is inches away from her face. Rory has always hated the corner of the bar, how narrow the space is next to the computer. The recognition that sparks in her mind is overshadowed by the pure anxiousness shinning in his steel blue eyes.

“Is she still there?” He questions in a hushed tone. He gnaws at his lip as his fingers grip the bar top hard enough that the wood lining gives slightly

“Uh,” Rory blinks twice before lowering her voice too. “Who are we talking about?”

He jerks his head over his shoulder, a few strands of dark hair falling loose. Her gaze follows his lead, spotting the blonde that walked in earlier to meet him. She’s still sitting at the table, unfolding her napkin to place it on her lap.

“Yes,” Rory answers him, raising her eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

“Because I’m…well,” He gestures at himself, a dreadful glint his eyes.

“You’re…what?”

He levels her with a serious look.

“A gentleman?” She guesses. He squints in confusion, the nervousness giving away to something more, endearing. Rory holds back her smile.

She shrugs. “You stood up when she entered and pulled her seat out.”

He huffs. “No. I’m…_me_.”

_Ah_, now she gets it. The redemption of Bucky Barnes, standing in front of her, is remains covered by the news even a year later. His name had been cleared, declared the longest prisoner of war- who was tortured, abused, had every ounce of his free will striped away. He officially became an Avenger ten months ago.

“Nervous, Mr. Barnes?” Rory smirks, not unkindly.

He drops his head for a moment. “The Winter Soldier on a date, how pathetic,” He mutters to the bar top.

Rory pursues her lips. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“She’d run away or dump her drink on me.”

“Well, seeing as she doesn’t have one yet.”

Bucky Barnes still seems skeptical as he lifts his head. Skeptical, and apprehensive, and adorable at the same time. Rory can feel her expression soften, her chest aching just a little for this nervous man who is on his first date.

“Tell you what,” She begins, nudging his fingers with her knuckles. “I’ll send some breadsticks over right away, give you something to do with your hands while you wait to order. And a bottle of wine. Wait, does wine even affect you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” He chuckles for the first time, the tightness around his eyes relaxing.

“Okay. Breadsticks, wine, and in about, let’s say twenty minutes. If you think this date is going bad, or she’s a dud, give me a signal and I’ll intervene. Deal?”

His shoulders sag in relief. “Deal, thanks.”

“You should probably get back there, _James_. She’s waiting.”

Bucky gives her a small, grateful smile, before he taps his fingers on the counter, then pushes himself off.

“Wait, I didn’t say what kind of wine-“ He hesitates, “I wouldn’t even know which to order.”

Rory looks over his shoulder at his date once more. “She looks like a white wine, sorta girl,”

“You know her preference already?” He inquires skeptically.

“I’m really good at calling people’s poison so to speak”

Bucky snorts quietly. “Can you guess mine?”

She hums, pretending to ponder. “Despite it not effecting you, wine would be too light for you. You’d want something smooth, maybe a little oaky, something with sweet spices, amber colored liquors. Bourbon, whiskey, dark rum.”

A hint of a grin graces his lips. “Interesting skill set to have.”

“Am I right?” Rory challenges, realizing she’s been having fun chatting with him.

This time, Bucky appraises her, those blue eyes gleaming in the soft lighting. “You’ll just have to wait until I order.”

Rory appreciates the teasing quip, but the shifting movement of his date behind him catches her attention once more. So, she gives him a playful glare, reaching above her to grab one wine glasses from the hanging rack and a whiskey glass.

“Your date is waiting, Mr. Barnes” She reminds him, “I’ll have those breadsticks for you soon.”

Bucky nods, nerves coloring his face one more as he turns back. Rory places the glasses down, pours one of their finest bottles of whites into the proper glass, and carefully picks the bottle of Makers Mark Whiskey for Bucky. She slides the glasses over to the waiter serving their table.

“Hey, Kyle, do you mind grabbing breadsticks, fresh out of the oven for them as well?”

“Sure thing, boss,” The server agrees with a smile. Rory thanks him, then picks up the receipt she dropped earlier.

Twenty minutes later has Rory's back turned to the dining tables, opening a few tabs for new costumers. Out of nowhere, something soft and cylinder-shaped knocks against her shoulder blade. Rory halts what she’s doing, fluttering her eyes in slight annoyance, because what the hell?

Slowly, she turns, immediately locking eyes with Bucky, who looks more downtrodden than he did earlier. _Oh no_. She quickly hands back the cards to the correct people, then makes her way over to the table.

“We did not establish throwing a damn breadstick at my head as the signal,” She says in low voice, hands on her hips.

“We didn’t establish any signal, to be fair. Damn breadstick was fair game,” Bucky replies with a smirk; it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I hit your shoulder, not your head.

Rory ignores the last bit. “Where’s your date?”

His smirk drops. “She just wanted an autograph. For her boyfriend.”

The bitter words make her stomach churn with anger and sympathy. “Yikes. I’m _so_ sorry.”

Bucky shrugs in dismissal. “Not a big deal. I knew this was a bad idea anyway. Me on a date. I mean, look at me.”

Rory did look at him, from the moment he walked in. Bucky Barnes is more handsome in person than when she’s seen him on TV or the papers. His deep blue eyes can pierce through any soul, though there isn’t a glint of charm like there was earlier. His thick, shoulder length brown hair is half pulled back into a bun. His jaw is strong, and his cheekbones cut into a beautiful face, half covered in a soft scruffy beard. Bucky is gorgeous, if she’s being honest.

But Rory believes he’s much more than just a handsome face. He’s also a man out of time, someone who has endured way too much. She thinks he’s strong, courageous. Someone that has recognized and accepted who he was as a controlled Hydra puppet as the Winter Soldier. And someone who has been trying so hard to make up for it. To help the world in return.

Rory is adamant Bucky is a hero.

Although he’s a hero who just put himself down twice in a span of thirty minutes. She picks up a leftover breadstick and lightly smacks him on the forehead. Bucky pouts, rubbing the now buttery spot, glaring at her.

“Damn breadstick. What the hell was that for?” He grumbles.

“One, payback,” Rory points the bread at his nose. “Two, there will be no self-deprecating attitudes here, mister. Now, where did you say she went?”

“Didn’t. But, bathroom. Said she would at least finish the meal.”

“Hmmm, how long has she been gone?”

“About five minutes”

“Right.”

Rory leaves the table without a word, making a beeline towards the restrooms in the back, shoving open the door. The layout of the restroom gives an easy view to the stalls, which has every door open. Annoyance makes her grit her teeth; running out on a date is bad taste. Agreeing to a date under false pretenses is worse. Especially when said date seems to be a sweet man trying his hardest. Rory schools her expression before she makes her way back to Bucky.

“She left, didn’t she?” Bucky assumes the second she’s in earshot.

“Or goblins got her,” Rory jokes, trying to lighten his mood.

He sighs, shoulders hunched forward. For a super soldier, he sure can make himself look incredibly small. She wants to reach out, place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but she doesn’t know him like that. Or if he would even welcome a comforting touch or not.

“Guess, I’ll just go then. No sense in waiting around a like a putz,” Bucky says, beginning to put on his leather jacket.

Her heart aches for this disappointed man. How can anyone just lead him on like his date just did. “Did you already pay?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t ditch the bill.”

“Not what I was- can I have your card please?” Rory holds her hand out.

“My card?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Ya know, that little plastic square thing that virtually carries money. I know, it’s a marvel what technology and banking has become.”

“I’m nursing a broken heart and here you are, making jokes,” Bucky pouts, but takes his card out anyway.

“Thanks, I’ll be right back,” She beams at him.

She turns and walks back to the bar. Rory hears the screeching sounds of the chair on sliding against the wooden floors behind her. She taps a few tabs on the computer, enters her override code, then swipes his card.

“What are you doing?” Bucky inquiries from behind her.

She waits until the transaction processes, then hands back his card. Their fingertips accidentally brush. “I comped your meal.”

He stares at his card. “You can do that?” He asks belatedly.

“I can,” Rory answers, casually crossing her arms. “When I’m the owner.”

He blinks, bewildered. “_You’re_ the owner?”

"Aurora Malone," She introduces herself properly, enjoying the dumbfounded expression on his face. "Rory for short. Pleasure witnessing your date, Bucky Barnes,” She holds out her hand.

Bucky eyes it, then laughs under his breath. He shakes her hand matching her strong grip. “Well, the date might have been horrible, but the food is amazing. Just like I remembered it.”

“Oh?”

“Steve and I would come here when we could, even brought my sisters here.”

Rory notes the sorrow in his eyes; whether it’s the mention of Steve Rogers or his past, she doesn’t know.

“Rikarda Malone was my grandmother. Everyone called her Rikki. I took ownership several years ago. My family wanted to keep my Nonna’s legacy alive and true.”

“You’ve done a great job. And thank you,” His voice is colored with sincerity. “We don’t know each other, but you still decided to help as stranger out. I-“ He clears his throat, seeming to struggle internally. “I truly appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll help anyone out in distress,” Rory tells him honestly. “Besides, you’re not really a stranger, are you?” She adds with a playful wink. “If you happen to bring another date here, you’re more than welcome to grab me in case they escape out a window.”

“Funny,” Bucky deadpans. Then his lips break into a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Wait right here,” She requests, holding her hand up.

Rory disappears through the kitchen doors. She finds exactly what she’s looking for, grabbing two takeout boxes as well. When she comes back a few minutes later, she’s armed with two plastic bags, gently placing them down on the counter.

“These are for you,” Rory states, sliding them over.

Bucky peaks in the bag, his head snaps up. “This is too much. You already gave me free dinner. I can’t accept this.”

“Don’t worry about it, we usually give away the pastries at the end of the night. Plus, I pegged you for a major sweet tooth from the beginning.”

“Am I that easy to read? My skills must be slacking,” He replies dryly. Yet there’s slight hint of mirthful gleam back in those blue, blue eyes.

“I think you wanted me too,” Rory winks for good measure.

He laughs, the brightest of the night. All signs of sorrow and self-pity gone.

“Maybe it’ll satisfied your pal there who’s been pressing his nose against my widow for the past fifteen minutes.”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around, rolling his eyes. “Ignore him. He’s just a nosy pigeon, and this was his idea. He gets nothing.”

Rory chuckles. “Enjoy your dessert, _James_,” She doesn’t mean for the name to come out as softly as it did. “I hope you have a better night.”

“It already is,” Bucky smiles, glancing down fleetingly, before locking eyes with her again. “Thank you again, Rory .”

“Of course. Let me know how you like them. Or if you don’t.”

Bucky promises he will, then takes his leave. He pauses at the door however and looks over his shoulder. “You were right about my choice of drink.”

Rory grins as he exists. She watches him greet the Falcon through the window, shoving him in the shoulders before he hands a bag over to him, despite his earlier words. Sam Wilson beams, waving at her through the window.

She chuckles under her breath, waving back to both of them. Bucky pauses, presses his hand over his chest, mouthing “thank you” once more, before taking off into the rainy night.

**

Bucky is pouting. Pouting down at the box on the dining table.

“Date went that bad?” Wanda inquires, as she plops herself down in the seat next to him.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Bucky,” Comes a youthful voice from above him. “I’m sure your next one will be better!”

Glancing up, Bucky watches as Peter slowly lowers himself upside from a string of web on the ceiling. Briefly, he wonders how long Parker has been up there, and if he just witnessed Bucky scarfing down at least twenty colorful Italian wedding cookies. Belatedly, he realizes he hasn’t answered them yet.

“She just wanted signature on a napkin,” He answers lightly, no longer caring about it. He _does_ care about the lack of desserts though, ignores that it’s his fault the treats are nearly gone.

“That’s not right,” Sam scoffs, for the fifth time since they got home, as he reenters the kitchen. He’s munching on a mini chocolate covered cannoli.

“Hey!” Bucky shouts indignantly, pointing a threatening metal finger at him. “That better not be the last one!”

“You ate all the cookies!” Sam accuses, clutching the other dessert box to his chest.

“There’s,” Bucky quickly counts what’s left. “Three left! How many cannoli’s are there?”

An evil simper spreads across his lips. “One.”

“Goddamnit Wilson! I didn’t have any!”

Unnoticed by both men, Wanda and Peter share confused looks. Clearly, Bucky isn’t too bothered with how his date went. While the bickering is still going on, Wanda secretly uses her ability, stealing the last of the cookies as they float her way in a red hue. Peter carefully eyes the last cannoli in the box as Sam lowers it to the counter. Subtly, he holds his hand out, then shoots his web that lands perfectly on the dessert, yanking back to him.

This finally catches their attention, both gaping at the younger Avengers. There’s a beat of silence as Wanda and Peter eat the rest of the treats with smug expressions. Peter even makes a show of licking his fingers from powdered sugar. Then Sam bursts out laughing.

“Guess that means you just have to go back for more!”

Bucky glares halfheartedly at all three of them, but soon, his glare morphs into a smile. What started out as a bad night no longer mattered. The churning in his gut over the date had settled into something warm, matching the smile behind a bar top.

Sam’s teasing doesn’t stop him from convincing Bucky to go on another date with someone new.

*

The next afternoon, between the lull of the lunch and dinner break, has Rory hanging clean wine glasses, and restocking empty alcohol bottles. After the bar is set up, she begins dividing reports for each server, when a voice breaks her silent concentration.

“Hey!”

She jumps, snapping her head up. Standing in front of her, is none other than Bucky Barnes, again. He’s got a determined expression on his face, arms crossed with bulging biceps in his gray t-shirt. He would look a little menacing, if she didn’t see him not even twenty-four hours ago looking down on his luck.

“If you give me a heart attack, I’m sending you the hospital bill,” Rory half teases as a greeting, trying to calm her racing heart with hand over her chest. “Also, can’t you read? We’re closed, or is your eyesight too old?”

“Har, har, Lenny Bruce,” He responds sarcastically, but his lips twitch up. “Your server let me in.”

“Nice reference,” She nods, a little impressed. “What brings you in, interrupting my hard work?”

“You told me to let you know how the desserts were.”

She blinks at him. “Verdict?”

“I demand to see the owner,” He narrows his eyes, but the mirth dancing in the fibers of blue give him away.

“Sorry, she ran out for a drink.”

“At two in the afternoon?”

“Don’t judge my drinking habits, mister- “_I throw breadsticks for a hobby_”.”

Bucky chuckles, dropping the act and his arms. “Those were the best desserts we had in a long time.”

“Really? You and the Falcon liked them?” Rory’s chest swells with pride.

“As did Wanda and Spider-man.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, they ate the last of them,” He pouts like a toddler. Rory laughs, causing Bucky to match her. “We would like to order some for Wanda’s birthday.”

“Oh my god, you are serious,” Rory sobers.

“As a heart attack,” Bucky winks, leaning against the bar top.

She ignores the strange flutter in her stomach at his abrupt charm. “That’s an ill-timed joke.”

He pauses. “That was a pun,” He deadpans, lips twitching nonetheless. “Do you make the desserts, by the way?”

“I do,” Rory answers a little bashfully. It doesn’t help when Bucky keeps smiling at her like that. He always looked so stoic in the media. “They’re my grandmother’s recipes, but she taught me whenever she could.”

“So, between bar tending, and owning this fine establishment, you also bake? Do you have time to sleep?”

“That’s what coffee is for,” Rory states the obvious.

“Can’t argue there,” Bucky agrees.

A comfortable silence falls between them for several moments, before Rory remembers he asked for an order. She breaks their eye contact, bending to pull an order pad from under the bar. She inquires about the treats for the birthday, jotting down the requests Bucky gives her. She relays the pricing and he gives a time and date.

“Will you be picking them up, or wanting them delivered?” Rory questions, briefly glancing up at him. “Unless a delivery requires a full security pat down.”

“The pizza guys never complain,” Bucky quips with a shrug. There’s a sparkle in his eyes though that reveals his joke. “Do you deliver them?”

“Depends on who’s doing the pat-down,” She winks boldly at him.

Bucky inhales, clears his throat and scratches under his jaw. “Uh-“

Rory swears his ears turn red, but Bucky is spared from a response when the phone rings behind her. She laughs goodheartedly, pats his forearm on the counter then answers the phone. The caller turns out to be one of her distributors informing her of a back order. The teasing mood suddenly turns into frustration at the situation.

Shooting Bucky an apologetic look over her shoulder, she hopes he understands that she has to deal with the issue. He nods and conveys that he does, before picking up the pencil she left on the counter. She barely pays him attention when he writes something down on the pad as she responds to the caller.

Bucky gives her a little wave, one she returns with another apologetic grimace, then he’s out the door. Back to business it is.

**

The birthday order for Wanda Maximoff isn’t due for a week, but it didn’t stop Rory from slowly starting to gather the supplies needed for all the treats. Three days until the actual time for the desserts to be picked up puts a pause in her plans.

Rory, on one of her rare days off, goes into the bistro to cover for one of her hostesses who had called in sick. At least the storms had stopped. She’s on the phone behind the small podium in front of the restaurant instead of the bar. She’s taking a reservation, jotting it down on the table chart, focused on writing the difficult last name. She hangs up, lifting her head just to yelp in surprise.

“Stop doing that!” She scolds, lightly smacking the metal arm of Bucky.

“She’s creepily clingy,” Is his hushed, panicked response.

He’s wearing the same black leather jacket he had the other night over a dark green shirt. The jacket looks buttery smooth and soft, and his hair is down tonight with a slight wave to it. He runs his fingers through said _pretty_ hair, Rory gets a whiff of either his shampoo or cologne. She has to blink to refocus.

“Who?” She asks, making a show of checking her pulse on her neck.

He rolls his eyes in mock exasperation. “My date.”

“Another one? It’s been like, four days, Casanova.”

“She keeps touching my arm,” Bucky physically cringes, holding up his left hand. “As if…”

“Maybe she’s got a metal arm kink,” Rory snickers behind her hand. Bucky looks horrified.

“I don’t even- no. Please, she’s kind of scaring me.”

A skeptical eyebrow raises. “You? Of all people?”

“Help me,_ please_?” He nearly begs, those ocean colored eyes wide and desperate.

“I don’t know,” Rory stalls rubbing her chin. “You didn’t throw a breadstick at me. You missed the signal,”

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Bucky states flatly.

“Alright, alright,” She relents, taking pity. “For one, don’t ghost her like your first date did.”

“The one with the boyfriend.”

“Right. Two, be honest? Tell her you aren’t really feeling a connection and you appreciate the date anyway but end it early.”

“What if she presses on?” He looks concerned, quickly glancing over her shoulder at the tables behinds her.

“Bucky. You’re an Avenger. I think you can handle a kinky gal, don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He mutters. Immediately his ears burn red, for the second time. It’s cute.

Rory has to muffle her giggles behind her hand again. “Just go tell her. No harm no foul if you’re honest right?”

He remains uncertain. “If you say so,” He points a finger at her. “But if I end up hogtied in the back of her trunk, I’m blaming you.”

Before Rory can respond, Bucky taps the back of her hand, his fingers lingering before he goes back. Intrigued, Rory follows behind him, far enough to not raise suspicion of his date. She goes behind the bar, realizing Bucky had gotten the same table; makes it easier for Rory to stay hidden behind counter. Sadly, she can only watch a few moments of Bucky talking, before one of the bartenders requests her help with a big drink order.

Only a few minutes pass, Rory sliding over the last martini for the large order. She spots Bucky behind the customer, heading towards the bar, a stoic expression on his face. Rory quickly meets him at the side as he jerks his head towards the bathrooms. She follows him into the small hallway, out of sight from the open layout of the tables.

“She thought I was playing hard to get,” Bucky whispers, turning around to face her. “Christ, if I ever thought a woman was playing hard to get back in the day and I didn’t leave her alone…I’m a fucking asshole.”

“Whoa, hang on, first’s thing first,” Rory attempts to calm him down, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Where does she think you are right now?”

“In the bathroom,” He states, eyes wide. “Oh god, I think she thinks it’s code from something. She wouldn’t stop touching me.” He shudders.

Rory shoots him a sympathetic look.

“Is this really what modern dating is like?” He nearly shrills, words shooting out of his mouth in a rush. “I can’t do that, this, what the hell was I thinking. I’m not made for any of this. I’m better off wallowing in loneliness and self--“

“Bucky!” Rory cuts him off, grabbing his hands and giving them a firm squeeze. “Take a deep breath, just breathe.”

His eyes are a darker shade of blue tonight, more on the gray side. Reflecting the storm of panic brewing inside him. His gaze holds hers as he nods, dipping his head lower, as if he attempts to match her own breathing. Several long moments past, just breathing as they stand in the narrow hallway.

“Are you okay?” Rory checks gently, only after his eyes are cleared from the clouds.

“Yeah,” Bucky exhales, squeezing her hands back. “Yeah, thanks.”

She opens her mouth to respond when Bucky tenses, eyes snapping above her head. Confused, Rory looks behind her just in time to see his date pop around the corner. She halts, scowling at Rory , her eyes dropping to their hands, then looks at Bucky.

“Who is this, Bucky?” She demands, crossing her arms.

Bucky drops Rory ’s hands. “Uh-“

Rory decides to save him, possibly get him out of this strange date. The girl looks nice enough, pretty too, unfortunately she’s just making him feel uncomfortable. She holds her hand out, ready to introduce herself, when Bucky interrupts her.

“She’s my ex-girlfriend!” He blurts out behind her.

Snapping her head around to glare at him, because how is that going help, Rory firmly thumps her hand against his chest. His very solid, very toned chest, plastering on a saccharine smile as she turns back to his date.

“I’m just not over him,” Rory coos in breathy voice. “I gave him everything ya know? We just such a _connection_.”

The girl grimaces, dropping her hands to her hips. “Ugh, I’ve dealt with an ex before. This is too complicated for me. Sorry, Bucky, I’m out. Good luck.”

She shrugs and walks away. Rory waits until she hears the door open and close before rounding on Bucky.

“Ex-girlfriend? Really?”

He shrugs, expression full of relief. “It worked didn’t it?”

“Surprisingly. You got lucky, pal,” She tells him lightly, poking his chest. “It’s not always that easy.”

“It feels easy with you,” Bucky confesses. His eyes widen immediately, and her stomach twists strangely. He suddenly grabs her finger and wiggles it, ignoring what he just said.

“What would I do without the help of my girlfriend who gave me everything?”

“_Ex-girlfriend_,” Rory glares, not addressing his little outbursts as well. “And you didn’t get everything. You’re not getting leftover desserts tonight.”

“I just escaped a harrowing situation and you’re denying me treats?” Bucky tilts his head and pouts, plush bottom lip poking out. Rory is beginning to think he knows that look can win people over.

“Yup!” She chirps brightly, pulling away to leave the hallway.

“Rory,” Bucky calls softly, his fingers carefully wrapping around her elbow. “Thank you.”

She jerks her head. “C’mon, I think there’s a few chocolate almond biscotti’s left. They go great with a cappuccino.”

Bucky’s downtrodden expression brightens like a mega-watt bulb.

He ends up staying until they close, claiming he had nothing better to do, and didn’t feel like going back to the temporary Avengers compound. Which happens to be the old Stark tower. Rory doesn’t miss the woeful look in his eyes as he mentions Tony Stark still leaving it to the team.

“I never got a chance to truly apologize for what happened. For what I did,” He informs, his voice laden with remorse.

“Maybe he did know,” Rory encourages quietly, treading on the subject carefully.

He flashes a quick smile that doesn’t come close to his eyes. He stirs a biscotti around in his coffee. “Steve tried convincing me of that. Sam still does to this day. Even if it’s true, it’s just not the same as saying it personally, ya know?”

Rory doesn’t have any words for that, because she _doesn’t_ know. She studies him in those silent moments. His ashen expression, the curl of his lashes against his cheekbones. The slope of his nose, the red of his lips pulled into a small frown, the heavy forward slump of his shoulders.

As if this man is still carrying the weight of his sins, despite the clearing of his name. Her heart flutters and aches for Bucky. So, instead or offering words, Rory tentatively touches his metal wrist, squeezing in a gesture of comfort. Bucky gives her a half smile in return.

Suddenly, the biscotti he was using to stir his coffee breaks off and drowns in the cappuccino. Bucky’s mouth drops open in outrage, staring hopelessly at the half cookie. He lifts what’s left of it up, his lips morphing into that kicked-puppy pout. A tiny noise escapes his throat, sounding suspiciously like a whimper.

Rory breaks, cackling at the situation and his overly dramatic face. She smacks her hand over her mouth and has to steady herself on the counter to keep from falling over.

“Not funny!” Bucky glowers. “Now my coffee has mushy crumbs in it.”

“I hope you know,” Rory tries saying between her laughter. “That you are-“ She breaks off to laughter harder for some reason; it’s probably the late hour. “A little bit pathetic.”

There’s no malice in her voice, no truth to what she just said, and her laughter has Bucky’s face cracking. He schools it just as quickly as it broke, placing his right hand over his chest.

“Yes, I am,” He sniffs. “Now hopefully you’ll feel bad and get me another one.”

Sobering with a playful eye roll, Rory makes to take his cappuccino away. Bucky however, quickly pulls it closer to his body.

“Not that!”

“You said yourself it has soggy crumbs in it!” She laughs again.

“I’m not that desperate to refuse drinking it!” He proves it by downing the rest of the coffee in one go.

Bucky’s face screws up in disgust, smacking his lips. Rory doesn’t stop giggling for the rest of the time he stays there.

******

A week passes before Rory sees Bucky in the bistro again, due to a mission he was called for.

He had sent her a text, first asking if it was okay to do so, considering he kept her personal number from Wanda’s birthday order. The conversation, which started with Bucky informing her about the mission, turned into hours of texting back and forth. Apparently, the flight to where he was going was long and boring, and Rory just couldn’t sleep.

She pretends she doesn’t miss him, pretends there isn’t a strange connection between them. She ignores the fact that they haven’t known each other that long to warrant feeling that way. Rory shouldn’t be missing his presence in her restaurant, no matter how easy Bucky said it felt with each other.

Rory wasn’t supposed to be working today, but she was called in to deal with one of the computers glitching. As she thanks the IT man for rushing over to help them, something soft hits the back of her head. Immediately she knows what it was.

“For the love of god,” She mutters trying to fight the twitch of her mouth.

She turns just in time to see a raven-haired girl dabbing red wine from her light blue dress. _Oh no_. Rory’s fighting smile is gone, replaced with a sinking feeling in her chest. She makes her way over just as Bucky’s date storms out. One of the waiters is hovering nearby ready to help, but Rory waves him away.

“What happened?” She inquires with concern.

“I’m a pathetic wreck. I can’t do this. _Date_. This dating shit is…shit,” Bucky slumps down, ignoring the wine on his metal hand.

Rory places a gentle hand over his arm. “What happened?” She repeats softer.

“I panicked. Thought I saw someone coming up behind her, someone who look familiar, an old Hydra agent. I thought…I reached out to her to-“ He shakes his head. “I ended up knocking the wine all over her.”

“C’mon, go to the bar, I’ll clean this up and you can wait for me there.”

“No!” He protests, quickly grabbing one of the cloth napkins. “I’ll clean it. I’m responsible for this mess.”

“Bucky, we have spills all the time, don’t worry about it,” Rory reassures kindly. He looks guilty.

“But-“

“Please go have a seat at the bar. Order a coffee, or whiskey, whichever. I’ll be right there.”

Bucky sighs in defeat.

Once the wine is soaked up, the table cleared to change the cloth and set up again, and part of the floor mopped, Rory makes her way back to the bar. A glance at the clock reads two hours to closing time. Usually, Bucky’s dates have all been around seven, and she vaguely wonders why tonight’s was later.

Bucky’s head is ducked down, low enough at his long hair falls around his face, shielding him from view. His fingers are interlock on the bar top, squeezing his knuckles and pulling at his fingers; metal into flesh, flesh into metal.

A pang of _something _she can't describe shoots through her heart, dropping it to her stomach. She just really wants to wrap her arms around him, give him a comforting hug. But they barely know each other past pastries and costumer and owner.

Instead, Rory grabs a bottle of Makers Mark whiskey, and a clean glass. Next she grabs a spherical ice ball from the freezer under the counter, carefully placing it in the glass, pouring the whiskey. She sets it down right in front of his hands, hard enough for the snap of the glass against the bar top catches his attention.

Bucky finally lifts his head, eyes the drink before appraising Rory. She offers a gentle smile in return. Releasing a heavy sigh, Bucky wraps his flesh hand around the glass and takes a long sip. Rory takes in his appearance as he swallows the whiskey.

He looks exhausted. Dark bags under his eyes, his skin paler than usual. His beard has grown a tad thicker in the past week, and the crinkles that normally frame the corners of his eyes whenever he smiles aren’t present.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” She inquires, realizing she didn’t clear dinner plates from his table.

He shakes his head, hair bouncing and catching in his eyelashes. Rory has a strong urge to push the soft looking strand behind his ear. She refrains and pushes those early developing feelings of a crush away.

“Just appetizers,” He answers, swirling the glass around. He pushes his hair back, his expression filled with guilt. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“The spill was unfortunate,” Rory begins kindly. "But her running out like that wasn’t nice either."

“I mean, I did ruin her dress. I would’ve offered to drive her home, take the dress to clean it, but she wanted nothing to do with me after that.”

“Personally, I think it was a bit of an over action,” She states. She can hear the coldness in her voice towards his date. “It’s just wine.”

Bucky makes a soft noise between a snort and a chuckle. “Maybe to you,” His eyes sparkle as the corner of his mouth quirks up. “But they haven’t been as cool as you, doll.”

The use of the pet name stalls Rory for a moment. She lifts her eyebrows, then smiles coyly, leaning over the counter to his level.

“Honey, no one is as cool as me,” Rory winks as she snaps and finger guns at him.

Her goal works, and Bucky breaks into a laugh, one that has the crinkles showing up. The sound of it sends warmth through her veins.

“I take it back,” He teases, grabbing her still pointed finger between his. “Finger guns were never cool.”

“Well I _never_!” Rory gasps in mock affront.

Bucky rolls his eyes and when they land on her again, she swears his expression softens. Several moments pass as they look at each other, her finger still caught in his. Rory has to lick her suddenly dry lips, darting her tongue out to wet them. Bucky catches the movement, his eyes dilating, lips twitching, and fingers squeezing her own for a split second. The air abruptly feels heavy with _tension _brewing.

“Let me bring you dinner,” Rory offers, slowly pulling her hand back. “What would you like?”

Bucky collects himself, and Rory thinks his cheeks are tinted pink this time. “Actually, you know what would make me feel better?”

She doesn’t miss his lips spreading into a mischievous tilt. She squints at him.

“Some of those Sfogliatella’s,” He sighs, overly dreamy. He takes another sip of whiskey.

“You’ll ruin your dinner,” She warns lightly.

However, she’s already putting in the order for the pastries into the computer for the dessert counter on the other side of the bistro. He shrugs, his eyes watching as the ice ball moves around the glass when he swirls it again.

“It’s late anyway. Probably shouldn’t be have a full dinner.”

Rory shoots him flat look; as if that’s ever bothered a super soldier before. “Yeah, why was your date at this time anyway? Just curious.”

“The mission went a little longer than planned. Didn’t want to be rude and cancel the date last minute,” Bucky pauses to press the glass against his lips. “Probably should have.”

“Okay, no more moping,” Rory says firmly, ducking behind the counter just to find a stack of playing card in one of the cubbies. She pops back up with a smile holding them up.

“Two card draw.”

Bucky gives her a strange look, then sets his glass down. “You’re on.”

They end up playing cards well past closing time. Granted, Rory had to pause a few times to help with some checks, and each time she came back, she swore Bucky cheated. A shit-eating grin on his face, with powdered sugar from the pastries dusted in his beard. Rory tossed a cloth napkin at his face in retaliation for his cheating.

When they did close, Bucky offered to help clean, despite her protests. He just grabbed rags and began wiping down tables and flipping up chairs. He even hand washed wine and whiskey glasses, dried them and replaced them.

He remains behind to chat with Rory, as she placed reports in different folders, kept her company as she did upcoming payroll. Their conversation never came to an awkward pause, and any lull in their words was due to a natural silence. Then one of them would make a random comment or ask a question and they continued talking.

Things likes: “What do you miss about the 1930’s or 40’s?”

“How simple things were. My family. Saving Steve’s skinny ass because at least I could still protect him in those times. _Dancing_. Just good ol’ fun dancing.”

To: “Do you like being a business owner?”

“Most of the time. It’s when you have costumers who just like to yell at you about things, and then you realize you can’t make everyone happy. But sometimes you take that bad energy home and wallow for the night. But the next day is a new day and you realize that murder is illegal.”

“Want me to take care of those people?” Bucky offered without missing a beat, his eyes turning cold.

He held his right hand up, balling his left into a fist and smacking it twice against his flesh palm. It had Rory in fits of giggles into her folders, almost delirious cackling from how late the night was going. Bucky broke, laughing just as loudly as her.

She had on a playlist the whole time, and Bucky had scrolled through to look up the songs he like to download into his own phone. Rory also showed him how to make the wedding cookies, even made some pizzelle’s for him to take home. When the treats are done, the desserts were packed into a boxed, Rory had finally noticed the time.

“Holy hell, it’s nearly four in the morning,” She states, unexpectedly muffling a yawn. She reaches up to take her long hair out of the bun its been in all day.

Bucky, with half a pizzelle in his mouth just blinks at the clock. He finishes the cookie, jumping off one of the counters in the kitchen. He grabs a paper towel and spray to wipe down and sanitize the spot, before tossing it into the trashcan.

“I didn’t realize,” He winces, shooting her an apologetic look. “Sorry I kept you up so late.”

“Don’t be,” She waves him off, grinning at him as she tugs her apron off and hangs it up. “We’re closed on Sundays anyway. I can sleep in. As should you because I bet you’re exhausted form the mission. We should leave though, give this place a break from our baking.”

Bucky follows her out the kitchen, through the quiet dining room to the front door. She unlocks the doors for him, but he stops her.

“Do you need a ride home or anything?” He offers rather shyly. “It’s really late.”

“That’s sweet of you, but there’s an office upstairs with a bed. Makes it easier for when I have big pastry orders.”

He nods, his eyes locking on her face, swaying forward slightly. “You have, uh- here.”

Bucky raises his fingers to her face, gently wiping something off her cheekbone. Rory’s chest shudders an inhale she hopes he didn’t notice. Her skin feels the lingering tingles from his warm touch, their eyes fixated on each other’s.

“Sugar,” Bucky whispers, his face inches from her own.

Rory's brain stops working. “What?” She asks in a daze.

“Sugar…um, powdered sugar. On your cheek,” Bucky clears his throat and leans back.

Now that her senses are clear of his crisp scent- spring water? Crisp woods?- she can think properly. Rory blinks rapidly.

“Right! Sugar!” She chuckles nervously, pushing her hand through her hair. “You should see me during a baking fest.”

“Bet you still look cute covered in flour,” He winks.

The fact that Bucky can turn on his charm in a second leaves her reeling and laughing at the same time.

“If you have a thing for a Pillsbury Dough Boy, sure, let’s go with cute.”

Bucky chuckles, and in the dim lighting of the bistro, Rory sees how flushed his face has become and the red blushing of his ears. Rory opens the door for him, stepping out onto the stoop after him. She notices a lack of transportation.

“Did you walk here?” Rory questions incredulously.

“I usually walk here,” Bucky answers, shrugging on his jacket.

“Then why did you offer me a ride, you goof?” 

“Just wanted to make sure you had a safe way home,” He answers sheepishly.

“Wait. Bucky, It’s like, a hundred blocks to the tower. Let me call you a cab or-“

“Rory, really, it’s fine. I like the walk. It tends to clear my head most of the time.”

“If you’re sure.”

He gives her a reassuring smile. “Thank you, for tonight,” Bucky abruptly looks self-conscious. “I still struggle sometimes, adjusting. I just,” He inhales deeply, taking a step closer. “I really appreciate you. It’s nice to have friends like you.”

A warm feeling spreads through her veins. Rory returns his smile. “Friends, huh? We’ve reached that level?”

“I hope so.”

The optimistic look in his eyes has Rory opening her arms and leaning forward. Bucky almost immediately steps into the hug, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist.

“Of course we are, Bucky,” She mutters into his hair.

**

Bucky doesn’t bother shutting the door quietly behind him, somewhat in a daze since the walk back. He does carefully place the box Rory sent him home with in his secret hiding place, keeping it away from greedy hands

Despite how horrible the night started out, it ended with Bucky forgetting the incident and feeling lighter on his feet. The week long mission kept him up late most nights, if not all night. But seeing Rory, her kind blue eyes, her pretty smile, the quick friendship they formed, had the exhaustion seeping from his bones.

She feels like a breath of fresh air; easy, simple. Like Bucky doesn’t have to try hard or put up a front. He feels like he can just be this new version of himself. Doesn’t feel like a burden when he talks to her. It’s…nice.

It makes the feeling Bucky has been searching for again for so long resurface. His chest flutters, his stomach tightens, his skin sweats just a little, his ears burn. All signs Bucky remembers he had decades ago when he was genuinely crushing on a dame.

But now, now feels different. It feels, better. He moves through the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, vaguely wondering why he even went on this late date in the first place. He _is_ exhausted.

“Dude,” Sam’s voice interrupts the stillness of the night.

Bucky, too wrapped up in his thoughts and beautiful powdered sugar covered lips, startles. It’s a rarity. He turns to see Sam standing in the entry of the hallway, sleep still evident on his face. Bucky takes a long sip of water, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s nearly five in the morning,” Sam yawns, rubbing his eye. “Are you just getting in?”

In lieu of answering, Bucky just nods slowly. He doesn’t really know how to explain how bad his date went, to baking with Rory in the early hours of the morning. Bucky sees the false realization dawn on Sam’s face.

“Oooh,” He coos, smirking. “Date went that good, huh?”

“No,” Bucky answers shortly, downing the rest of the water. He tosses it in the recycling bin.

“No?” The confusion colors Sam’s tone. “Then why the hell are you coming in so late?”

Smirking to himself as he passes him, he says, “Just a night of pizzelles is all.”

He can practically feel Sam’s utter bemusement. Bucky slips into his bed that morning, a smile lingering on his lips.

**************************************************************************************


	2. Chapter 2

Rory has to give it to Bucky for having moxie. The next two weeks brings Bucky back in with three other dates, all different girls. Each time something ends up going awry, but each time he keeps coming back.

The first of the three girls, a cute redhead, has her eyes glued to her phone for the majority of the date. Rory keeps peaking over, and every time the girl’s fingers are flying over her phone. By then seventh time she looks, Bucky has a breadstick in his hand and catches Rory ’s eyes. She glares at him and the breadstick in warning. His sheepish smile turns into a begging look.

One that screams, “_get me out of this please_”.

Rory motions slicing her hand across her neck to “_cut it off, just end it_.” He nods, shoulders slumping as he takes a rather pathetically sad bite of the breadstick. If she’s being honest, he doesn’t look that put out about it though.

Two minutes later, Rory nearly bumps into someone as she exits the kitchen door.

“Seriously, you need to come with bells or something,” Rory deadpans, her heart calming down from the scare.

“I’m cuter than a phone, right?” Bucky questions, the joke evident in his words. But Rory is beginning to know him enough that his eyes betray his words.

“Eh, you’re alright, I guess,” She shrugs. Then knocks her shoulder into his, so he knows she isn’t serious. “Of course you’re cuter than a phone. You just don’t have a keyboard across your forehead.”

Bucky rubs said forehead. “Busy?”

“Nah, it’s actually a slow night,” Rory explains. “Hey, why don’t you call the others here? You can all have a great dinner, possibly desserts. They haven’t been here before, right?”

He quirks and eyebrow. “You sure you wanna do that, sweetheart? Have them run amuck?”

Another pet name, another ignored flutter of butterflies in her chest. Because Bucky had gone on another date.

“I mean, we have plenty of open tables. Plus, it gives me a break from having to see your old mug every other night.”

Bucky’s mouth drops in mock outrage. “I’m the one keeping this establishment in business! Old mug and everything!”

Rory hears the laughter in his voice, and she has to press her lips together as he points to his, very attractive face.

“Hmmm, pretty sure it’s my other costumers,” She smirks. “Keeping my desserts alive.”

“Sure,” Bucky relents.

But he takes a small step forward and his pretty blue eyes darken with a sparkle. Suddenly, the restaurant feels very small and heated. Rory holds her ground, meeting his mysterious gaze that has her throat running dry.

“But I’m the most satisfied by your...desserts.”

Her brain short-circuits for a moment, inhaling his light cologne and the soothing scent of leather from that damn jacket. She swears his eyes drop, appraising her, before they slowly move back to her own. She blinks and comes back to herself.

“Did you mean Sam Wilson?” Rory quips, hating how shaky her voice sounds. “I hear _I_ leave _him_ more satisfied.”

Whatever smooth, core heating charm Bucky was putting on falls. His expression now flat. Rory pats his chest and moves to step aside.

“With my desserts I mean,” She adds with a wink.

Then Bucky is laughing and pulling out his phone. “You’re something else, Rory .” He sounds extremely fond.

A half hour later has old and new Avengers filling Rikki’s empty tables.

**

The second date stands Bucky up. He’d be more bothered by it, more hurt, if he hadn’t been distracted by Rory. She’s a bit more dressed up tonight, different from her usual casual blouse and black jeans. Tonight, she’s wearing a black blazer over a white silk blouse, and a bright red lace skirt. He vaguely thinks Wanda called the style of skirt a pencil, but he still isn’t quite sure what that means.

It’s hard to keep his eyes off her, as Rory calmly talks down an annoyed costumer. She has a polite smile on, red staining her lips, and a hint of glitter on her cheeks when she shifts in the light. Her light brown hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, different from the usual messy bu she wears it in. Bucky has to remember he came to the bistro on the notions of a date, and not to stare openly, most likely creepily, at the beautiful owner_; _the beautiful owner with her beautiful sapphire eyes.

He mentally curses Sam for convincing him to go on another date again, just one more...or two. He’s going on these dates because he promised Sam, even Wanda, that he would try putting himself out there, instead of just staying cooped up inside. He promised at least ten dates, and if none of them worked out, Same would leave Bucky alone for good about it. He also knows Sam is coming from a place of genuine concern for a friend, and Bucky does appreciate that.

However, Bucky hadn’t been very interested in dating in the first place, even after he was deprogrammed. What little interest he did have has been fading away within the past weeks. Whether that has to do with the fact that he’s feeling less lonely, less bitter or the conversations he’s had with Rory , he isn’t quite sure.

All he knows is that he keeps coming back to Rikki’s. Bucky feels comfortable here. He feels like the workers are all friendly to him, and he feels like he’s truly gaining a real friend in Rory. Again, he isn’t sure if it’s the first friendship outside of the Avengers, or that he has been crushing on Rory since that first night.

If that’s the case, why the hell is he still trying to date? It’s good to be social, to try and put himself back out there. To realize his life is _his_ again, and he doesn’t need to have his world revolve around mission after mission. Even though these missions are helping other people and saving the world from Hydra, again. They just won’t give up, and the Blip didn’t help with it either, contrary to popular belief.

Rory’s warm, sparkling laughter fills up the bistro, and the way she hides her mouth behind her hand snaps Bucky back to reality. She’s way too good for him. She’s so kind, and honest and she doesn’t ever seem fearful of him like some people still are. And after each disastrous date, she tries her hardest to make him feel better. With mirthful, kind eyes, soft pretty hair, gentle touches and funny remarks. She probably has someone in her life she goes home to every night.

Abruptly, Rory is waving at Bucky, who nearly chokes on his tongue because he was caught staring at her. He awkwardly waves back, offering a small grin, but her expression falls nonetheless. Then, she marches over to him, black heels clicking against the tile. When she reaches his table - maybe it’s the table that’s cursed- she frowns.

“What’s a handsome place like this doing in a person like you?” She greets, frown twisting into a smirk.

Humor. Bucky has been remembering that he likes humor in women. So far, none of his dates have matched hers.

“You look extraordinarily beautiful tonight,” Is his - rather embarrassing- response.

Bucky picks up his glass of water to take a sip to calm the fire racing through his chest. And ears. And cheeks. He watches as Rory ’s smirk softens into a smile.

“Uh, thank you. I have to go to a fancy birthday party tonight. I don’t usually wear skirts to work.”

She’s going to a party. Not on her own date, and a strange wave of relief washes over him. Bucky shouldn’t be feeling that way though. He shouldn’t be taking other girls out, only to start developing a crush on Rory. He swallows, and nods.

“Where’s your date?” She inquires, looking around the restaurant.

“Duped me,” Bucky shrugs, beginning to tear apart the breadstick on his plate.

“What?”

“She uh…stood me up, I guess.”

Rory pulls out the seat, sitting across from him. “Seriously, where do you find these women?”

Her irritated tone has his lips twitching. “Internet. Sometimes Sam sets them up.”

“Why do you need-“ Rory cuts herself off, winces slightly enough that Bucky still catches it. “Uh...are you okay?”

He frowns, wondering what she was about to ask. He thinks better of it and answers her second question instead.

“It’s fine. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened more.”

“Hey, what did I say about doing that,” She reprimands lightly, reaching across the table to squeeze his metal fingers. “Anyone would be lucky to date you. You just need to find the right person. Maybe...maybe move away from the online dating.”

Intrigued by her nervous lip biting, Bucky leans closer. “Speaking from experience?”

“Another story for another night,” Rory smiles. “Did you order food for yourself at least?”

He shakes his head, flipping his hand over and playing with an unique ring she’s wearing on her middle finger. It’s bulky, glittery and swirls around her finger.

“Nah, why order just for myself to eat lone? That’s one hell of a pathetic man.” A nudge to his shin makes him pout at her.

“I said stop with that, Bucky. You _aren’t_ pathetic.”

Bucky carefully studies her. The hint of distress in her eyes, the downward tilt of her painted red lips, her earnest expression. He can hear the slightly elevated rate of her heart beat, but he’s not sure if it’s from her passion or his hand touching hers. But his own skips a weird beat because Rory cares. She honestly cares for him.

“Thank you, Rory,” Bucky tells her in a low voice. He keeps saying that to her, but doesn’t know how else to say he appreciates her kindness towards him.

“I just don’t want you to be hard on yourself. You deserve better, Bucky.”

He squeezes her fingers for lack of better words. Her eyes flicker over his shoulder where he knows the vintage clock is. When she looks back at him, that little glint is back in her eyes. Her captivating, bright eyes.

“Would you want to come with-“

Her question is abruptly silenced by Bucky’s phone ringing. He cringes because he forgot to turn it off, before realizing its Sam calling. Sam won’t call him on a date unless it’s urgent. Another mission.

“Sorry, I think this is important,” Bucky explains, slowly taking his hand from hers. He ignores how strangely empty his hand feels when he leaves to step outside.

Sam informs him of a lead on a group of scientists the team has been following. It’s a location and Bucky has to leave immediately. He catches Rory ’s attention through the window, waving his goodbye. He messages her a better explanation as he mounts the motorcycle he actually drove this time. He feels bad for leaving abruptly.

Her “_good luck, be safe_” message warms his heart. All thoughts of being stood up forgotten.

**

Bucky has his third date that week. Or rather, his sixth date if Rory is keeping track.

It seems to be going well and every time his date laughs Rory looks over and ignores the strange heavy weight in her stomach. Bucky is laughing too, eyes crinkling at the corners and he even reaches out to briefly touch his dates wrist. They make it through a whole meal; no breadsticks being thrown.

Rory even tried to catch his attention to check in, but Bucky is too wrapped up in the stunning woman across from him. So, she busies herself with prepping pastry dough in the kitchen, and double checking the desserts order for pick up in an hour.

By the time she exits the kitchen and serves behind the bar, she sees Bucky. He’s standing up, offering his hand to his date to help her as well. He places her jacket around her shoulders and his right hand is hovering over the small of her back as they exist. A bright, genuine smile on his face.

Simultaneously the smile on Bucky’s face makes Rory happy and slightly bitter at the same time. She knew better than to have a silly crush on him. All the woman he’s brought on these dates have been stunning; maybe Rory just isn’t his type.

She grits her teeth and pushes whatever she had been feeling for him down. Burying it where it belongs. She should be happy a date finally went well for him. She _is_ happy. She ignores the gnawing in her stomach.

Rory goes back to wiping down the counter and realizes they’re low on maraschino cherries. She goes into the kitchen to get more, grabbing the jar from the refrigerator. When she renters the bar, she stops in her tracks, startled by a breadstick close to her face. Bucky is standing just inches from the door, holding it up to her nose.

“You and these damn breadsticks,” She mumbles, moving around him to set the jar by the container of fruit. “Why are you still here and not enjoying your extended date?”

Bucky tilts his head, possibly at the tone of her voice. Her words did come out a little harsher than she meant.

“Hard to extend a date when she, what’s the term? Friend zoned? When she friend zoned me,” He finishes with a shrug.

Rory stops trying to open the jar. “She friend zoned you!? I don’t understand, you both look like you were having so much fun.”

Bucky shoves his fingers through his hair, most likely forgetting he had it pulled back in a low bun. He shrugs again, almost nonchalant. He plops down on one of the stools.

“Mind if I sit here for a minute?”

“Stay as long as you like,” She offers. Rory goes back to prying the lid off. _Attempting_, to pry the lid off.

“You sure? You don’t have another party or a date to get to yourself?”

“Ha!” She grunts after her dry laugh. “That’s hilarious.”

Bucky’s hand suddenly shoots out to grab the jar. He easily twists it open and slides it back to her.

“Okay, but I loosened it.”

“Of course you did, doll,” Bucky plays along.

Rory pauses her tasks, appraising him. “Don’t mind me saying this, but you don’t look too put out by what just happened.”

“Didn’t really feel a connection. The conversation was good, but, no chemistry,” Bucky informs her lightly, reaching out to grab a cherry, popping it in his mouth.

No chemistry? Rory could have sworn there was, from the way he was laughing. She decides not to question it. Not when Bucky is munching happily on a sweet cherry and sucking the leftover juice from his thumb. He suddenly peers up at her through his lashes and her heat stutters.

“So, what sort of Italian pastry will heal my broken heart tonight?” He muses, half standing up as to peek into the dessert display across the bistro.

“I’m beginning to think you’re just using this friendship of ours for free food,” She deadpans, dumping half the cherries in the container.

“Never, sweetheart,” Bucky grins coyly.

Towards the end of the night, Rory pulls out a treat. They share the last piece of cannoli cake over cups of coffee once more. Rory doesn’t fight him when Bucky insists on cleaning the plate, taking the dish, but not before his fingers brush against hers.

**

Nearly three weeks pass since Bucky has entered Rikki’s. Rory realizes how much she misses the blue of his eyes, the crinkles at the corners, and the scrunch of his nose when she makes him laugh. Bucky had texted, informing her that they got called away for yet another mission.

He did show up before he left though, explaining they found another Hydra bunker, but this time, there was proof of human experimentation. Rory had held his hand, sensing Bucky was on a verge of an anxiety attack.

“It’s just never going to end with them. This is why I have to do this. To spare anyone else from going through what I did,” Bucky had said to her in a small voice. “I have to stop it. We have to stop it.”

“You will. I believe you will,” Rory told him vehemently. “Just…”

Her hesitation had Bucky lacing their fingers together, a silent encouragement meant.

“Please be careful,” She nearly whispered. He squeezed her hand after that.

And before he left, Bucky pulled her into a tight hug, Rory burying her face in his neck. His hand held the back of her head, his own face pressed into her hair, his vibranium arm secure around her waist. Rory could have sworn before he released her, that he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Currently, Rory stares at the empty bar stool where Bucky usually sits after his bad dates. She hasn’t had much contact with him, other than the sparse texts here and there. At least every time she did get one, she knew he was safe at that moment.

**

When Rory crawls into bed later that night with sore feet, she gets a text from Bucky. She responds, not fighting the smile spreading across her lips. His replies come quicker than they have in the past few days.

Somehow, they end up on the topic of his dates, and Rory can no longer keep her question to herself. She finally ends up inquiring why he feels like he needs to go on so many. It’s something that has been vaguely brought before.

He doesn’t send anything back for nearly an hour. Rory tries not to worry about his lack of response as she goes over the restaurants reports When her phone rings, flashing Bucky’s name, she internally panics, thinking she offended him.

“Um, aren’t you in Europe on a mission?” Rory greets. “Is this costing me money?”

His low, throaty chuckle has her stomach and heart developing butterflies. Something that has been a new occurrence for the last several weeks.

“I got voted to stay behind tonight,” Bucky answers, sounding exhausted.

“Why’s that? Too many pizzelles give you a stomachache?”

The huffing noise sounds suspiciously like a hiss of pain. “No, although they’re all gone. Clint and Rhodes ate the last of them.”

“I told you to pace yourselves,” She chuckles, turning over in bed and snuggling deeper beneath her covers.

“It’s not my fault you make delicious desserts, doll.”

The little pet name makes her nose wrinkle, but the wings beating against her chest doesn’t stop. “That’s true,” She muffles a yawn.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” His soft voice in her ears is soothing.

“Nah, I was doing reports in bed.”

There’s a short pause. “You asked why I’m dating so much-“

She cringes. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to sound judgmental or that there’s something wrong with dating a lot. I was just honestly curious and-“

“Rory ,” His gritty chuckle cuts her off. “I wasn’t offended, I just felt like calling you to answer…and pass the time.”

She sighs in relief.

“I guess I’m just…” He trails off in thought. Rory waits patiently. “I mean, my life has been a nightmare for so long. I’ve been given a second chance. Hell, I’ve been given more than enough chances, again after the whole Blip thing. And then Ste-“

He cuts himself off so abruptly, Rory pulls the phone away to make sure the call didn’t drop.

“Bucky,” She says gently, “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

“I do,” He reassure quickly. “I do want to. Talk about it,” He sounds like his takes a deep breath. “With you.”

“Okay,” Rory breathes, a slow smile gracing her lips.

“Okay,” Bucky chuckles quietly. The line turns static as he exhales. “Ever since Steve left- he talked to me about his decision. But it stings. Fuck, it doesn’t sting, it hurts still. It’s almost been a year, but I can’t help but feel bitter at times, after everything.”

“I just haven’t been able to shake this feeling of abandonment. He left me behind, the first chance he got, it felt like. I just came back. He wasn’t on the run anymore, I wasn’t hiding, the war was over. Then he decided to leave. Just like that.”

Bucky pauses for a few moments. “Is that selfish of me? I mean, I understood his choice, and I told him that. He deserves to be happy and he finally got the love of his life after so long. It just feels like his version of a happy life didn’t include me anymore. As is I’m a burden.”

Bucky falls silent. Rory can’t help but feel sympathetic for him, but not with pity. She’s sad for him, because if anyone deserves happiness and love, it’s the man she’s talking to. The man who threw a breadstick at her as an unestablished signal. The man who seems to genuinely love her restaurant and desserts and feels comfortable enough to keep coming back. The man who seems comfortable talking to Rory about something so personal.

“I think don’t that makes you selfish at all, Bucky” Rory tells him honestly. “He was your best friend for so long. You guys been through so much together. It’s understandable how you feel. I think you are completely validated in your feelings.”

Another huff echoes through the phone. “Thanks, Rory. I think I’ve just feeling…lonely. Don’t get me wrong. The team is great. I’ve gained this family who has forgiven me and put their trust in me. I’ve made these great friendships.

“I think Sam was starting to notice. He’s annoyingly attentive when it comes to others,” Bucky says it, but the softness of his tone betrays his fondness towards Sam.

“He convinced me to try dating. I wasn’t keen on it at first, but then I just wanted to see if there is something, someone, out there for me, ya know? If maybe…I don’t know.”

“If maybe you’re worthy of something akin to love?” Rory finishes for him. She swallows thickly, turning onto her back. She’s an old friend of loneliness; she had struggled with it for the past 3 years.

“Trust me, hon. I completely understand that feeling.”

Bucky sighs heavily through the phone. “Yeah”

Silence settles through the phone once more. A heavy, yet understanding silence. Words of comfort aren’t spoke. No words of reassuring each other. No “_that’s not true for you”_ and Rory thinks maybe her and Bucky both just needed to hear the same feelings being shared. That they aren’t alone in the aftermath of the Blip, even if it’s in different ways.

“Aurora,” He calls her full name in such a tender tone, As if her name was the most delicate thing to ever be said.

“Hmm,” She hums, not able to use to her voice at the moment.

“Thank you for always listening.”

“Of course, Bucky. Anytime. I’m always here for you, if you need me.” A long pause of silence stretching between them before her mind remembers something. “Why did you get left behind?”

He clears his throat. “Because I…got injured,” Bucky answers slowly.

She frowns. “Injured? How?”

“I am not, contrary to popular belief, bulletproof.”

“What!?” Rory shoots up in her bed, worry flooding her bones. “You got shot!? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Rory , I swear,” Bucky reassures her quickly. “Just a few holes, no big deal.”

“A few- A few holes!? Bucky Barnes, do not tell me that a few holes is no big deal!”

“It was mostly my thigh. And side. Maybe my shoulder.”

“What the _hell_,” Rory whispers, horrified. “Will you be alright? You’re not- you’re not bleeding out? Are you-“

Bucky has to call her name a few times to get her to stop. “Seriously, I’m fine. Nothing a skin grafter here and there couldn’t fix.”

“You just really love giving me a heart attack, don’t you?” She scolds, blinking away the concerned sting of her eyes.

“Got ya really worried there, didn’t I, doll?”

“Yes! You’re my friend and I’m allowed to be concerned.”

“In that case-“ Bucky suddenly groans in pain; very loud, over dramatic pain. “I think that only thing to make me feel better are those wedding cookies…and Nonna’s Lasagna. Maybe some of those cream puffs.”

“Is that so?” Rory challenges, flatly.

“Yes. It is very important to my healing process. Great desserts made by a great person,” He inhales through the phone. “What better way to heal the heart?”

Rory is extremely glad Bucky can’t see her smiling through the phone. They spend another hour talking, transitioning smoothly from heavier topics to lighter ones. When Rory drifts off, it’s with her phone still pressed to her ear, and Bucky’s soft, tender voice bidding her to sleep well.

**

Once the team arrives back from the long, grueling mission, exhausted and caffeine deprived, there’s three large white boxes sitting on the kitchen counter. A letter with Rikki’s Bistro logo in the top corner, with loopy handwriting, is addressed to Bucky.

_Welcome home Avengers!_

_Inside you will find freshly made, home baked goodies of all kind. There are also two trays of Nonnas lasagna, that should be in the freezer (if the person who delivered these gifts to you did the right thing) with heating instructions as well. I know how tiring it can be after long works days to come home, and not want to cook anything. So, I made you a meal for that exact reason._

_Hope you are all well and get the rest you deserve. Thank you for saving the worlds ass, time and time again._

_Rikki’s Bistro Owner,_

_-Rory _

_PS: Bucky, I really do hope you are healed, and if not, I hope those wedding cookies will fix you right up. I worried about you even after you reassured me. It resulted in baking three batches of cookies. Please enjoy, and please share with Spider-Man!_

“Wow, Barnes, if you smile any wider you’ll blind us,” Sam teases, reading over his shoulder.

Bucky shoves him away halfheartedly. He notices the time, looks at the variety of treats, then back at the letter. He makes an impulsive decision.

**

By the time Bucky arrives at Rikki’s- stumbles through the door really- it’s five minutes to closing time. He didn’t expect the amount of traffic he hit so late at night, and he didn’t count on running out of gas halfway there.

The tower is still a good distance away from the bistro. Bucky is still exhausted, leftover from the long mission and the six bullet wounds of all types. Most of them have healed, except the one that embedded deep into his right shoulder.

To her credit this time, Rory doesn’t seem startled to see him, as he nearly falls on his face. Mirth dances in her pretty eyes making them glitter beneath the soft lights of the restaurant. She helping flip chairs on top of the tables.

“Good evening, Sergeant. Shouldn’t you be resting?” She greets with a quirk of her eyebrow.

Bucky is struck dumb by how beautiful she is, not that he’s never noticed before. How warm her eyes are, how pretty her lips are whenever she smirks at him. The way her eyebrows twitch when she teases him, how open and seemingly trusting her body language is each time he’s close to her.

It’s probably just the fact that he hasn’t seen her face in two and a half weeks. The subject of loneliness they talked about made their rather new friendship bond deeper. He didn’t just miss the food; he missed her friendship. He missed _her_.

“I...uh, coffee,” Is his brilliant response. It’s definitely not what he was trying to say.

Rory gives him a bewildered look, tilting her head. “What?

“Can I have a cup of coffee?”

He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing one of the stools off the counter and placing it on the floor. The bartender there looks a little startled, probably because the Winter Soldier just barged into the bistro, looking dead on his feet. Bucky’s also 100% positive there might be some blood on his person; he should’ve reevaluated coming here this late.

“It’s eleven at night, Bucky,” Rory tells him, before addressing her employee. “You can go home, Amy, I’ll finish cleaning up.”

Amy nods, quickly grabbing her things and leaving. Bucky frowns, hoping the woman wasn’t truly afraid of him. It reminds him of the fear he sometimes sees in his date’s eyes. Rory has never shown fear in her eyes though, not when she looks at him, like she is now. Appraising him, as if she knows him down to his very core already. She sets a glass of water down in front of him.

Bucky glares. “That is the opposite of coffee.”

“No shit,” She snorts, crossing her arms. She’s clearly enjoying messing with him. “You just got home, and you’re probably exhausted. I don’t think coffee is what you need right now.”

He narrows his eyes the best he can, giving her what he hopes is his most threatening glare. “**If you don’t give me caffeine right now, I cannot guarantee your safety.”**

Rory arches one eyebrow. “Says the man who came home looking like Swiss cheese,” She counters coolly. “Is that your version of a menacing stare?”

Bucky groans in defeat, dropping his head to the counter, but hearing Rory laugh brightly makes his bone deep exhaustion fade away. She must feel bad for him, because just a few seconds later, Bucky hears and smells the signs of coffee brewing.

“Hey.”

A soft tap of fingers against his right hand makes him turn his head up. Rory gives him a gentle smile, hooking her fingers under his chin to lift his head, her touch causing his heart to beat a little harder. Her thumb carefully touches a healing cut on his chin.

“I’m glad you’re home safe,” She tells him, before releasing his chin and reaching for the coffee pot. “I’m putting it in a to-go cup, you should go home and get some rest. How do you take it?”

“I thought you had a specific drink skill set,” Bucky teases. Rory sticks her tongue out at him as he laughs.

“You had a cappuccino last time, threw me off,” She winks. Then she studies him. “Black, one sugar. Just enough to cut the bitterness. Although, my coffee is never bitter.”

Bucky reaches for one pack of sugar to confirm her guess. He rips it open and dumps the crystals into the cup as Rory pours the coffee and hands him a stirring stick. She also slides over an almond biscotti on a napkin with a smile.

“It’s on the house,” She quickly informs him as he reaches for his pocket. “C’mon, you big bad soldier, up you get.”

Bucky hops off the stool, placing it upside down on the bar top. He follows her out, frowning when he realizes she doesn’t have a mode of transpiration, again. He carefully grabs her elbow after she locks up the doors.

“Do you walk home every night?” He asks, concern for her safety. He does remember the office upstairs, but he’s never actually seen Rory leave from Rikki’s.

“I take the subway sometimes, most of the time.” She shrugs, putting on her light jacket, causing him to release her arm.

“Alone?”

Rory narrows her eyes. “Oh no, big boy. I get home fine every night, without someone protecting me by my side. I don’t live far from here, just ten blocks over, but when my feet are killing me, I take the train since the station is right there. And I can protect myself, you know that right?”

She softens her words towards the end, not meaning to start anything. Bucky realizes it’s just her way to telling him that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.

“I don’t doubt it,” He tells her honestly, offering a friendly smile. “But, can I still walk with you?”

“What about your bike?” She points at his motorcycle by the curb.

“I’ll come back for it.”

Rory rolls her eyes playfully. “Fine. Maybe it’s _you_ who really needs protection.”

Bucky grumbles against the coffee cup. The six healing bullet wounds says she’s probably right. When he lifts the cup to take a drink, he winces at the tinge in his shoulder, nearly spilling the hot coffee on the floor. His motion makes Rory halt, eyeing him closely.

“Bucky! You’re bleeding!” Rory gasps in alarm, as she carefully grabs right bicep.

“Damn, the stitches tore,” He huffs, glancing down at his shoulder.

There’s a spreading spot of blood darkening his tact shirt. He didn’t bother changing before he decided to come here. Rory hurriedly unlocks the door and pulls him inside. She rushes back towards the kitchen. She comes back with a clean red towel. She folds it into a square pressing it over Bucky’s wound. He can’t help but grin at her.

“Keep that there,” Rory instructs. “Can’t have you bleeding all over my floor, it’s a health violation. Now come on, I’m going to clean that up for you.”

“Rory , I’m-“

“If you say you’re fine to me one more time, I will smack you in the face with a breadstick. Now come on.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It earns him a glare.

**

Rory was right. The walk from Rikki’s to her apartment only takes around fifteen minutes. She kept checking on him, making sure he wasn’t going to bleed out on the sidewalk. Despite reassuring her plenty of times that he’s had worse; it doesn’t ease her worry.

Instead, Bucky distracts her with a story of having to recruit Ant-Man for this particular mission. He repeats the jokes and stories as best he can, and Rory ’s laughter has his chest filling with warmth, cashing away the pain and exhaustion.

They reach her apartment; two flights up in an apartment building. Bucky quickly looks around as she leads him through her home. An open kitchen, a surprisingly spacious living room with two blue couches, her room and a spare room with the door closed. It’s bigger than some other city apartments, but still cozy and warm.

Rory brings Bucky to the bathroom, gesturing for him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. Half melted candles of all sizes line against the counter. Her shower curtain is an abstract array of different colors, and the teal towels on the rack look soft and fluffy.

“Really, Rory ,” Bucky attempts once more.

However, he can’t help the amused smile as she pulls a rather impressive first aid kit from under the sink. She places it within reaching distance after opening it, to which Bucky grabs a long pair of tweezers, carefully twirling the tool between his fingers.

“I’ve had worse,” He tells her, trying to dispel her concern. “Had my arm completely blown off before. Nearly drowned a few times. Had a gaping gash as the Winter Soldier on my leg. That one is a little fuzzier to remember; think I nearly lost my limb.”

Rory ’s narrow gaze snaps to his, not responding to his words. She grabs gauze and tape, some ointment and even sutures. Bucky continues, checking the blood on the cloth.

“Several months ago, I lost my arm again, had to slip through a vent, Clint gave me a boost, and one part of the vent gave out. Landed right in the middle of a heist- was nearly lit up like 4th of July night.”

“Bucky. **Please just take your clothes off and shut up,” **Rory commands dryly.

His brain short-circuits. He can feel his ear beginning to burn, his face warming up. “What?”

“You need to take your shirt off so I can take care of your bullet wound,” She tells him slowly. Her lips spread into an amused smile. “Unless you need help with that.”

He swallows thickly. She’s flirting, he knows it. It’s what they do sometimes, slipping in little flirtations here and there. Her eyes are glittering with mischief as she holds up the sutures between her fingers. He can’t help but suddenly imagine what it would be like if Rory was helping him out of his shirt; fingers leaving blazing trails of fire against his bare skin.

“Bucky,” Rory now sharp voice snaps him out of his reverie. “You with me? You’re not bleeding out on me, are you?

He Bucky blinks, shifting on the tub. _What the hell_. “No, no. Sorry, doll. I’m good.”

He hands her the blood-soaked towel and carefully begins taking off his tact shirt. She looks relieved, waiting until he drops his dirty shirt into the bathtub. Vaguely he thinks that running over to the bistro wasn’t the greatest of ideas. He probably smells a little ripe, considering his only shower was the rain on the way back to jet.

None of this seems to matter to Rory though, as she concentrates on cleaning his wound. Bucky just silently watches her, not doing anything to calm the rapid beating of his heart from her gentle touches. He only winces slightly at the pinch of the sanitized needle at his skin as she tugs thread through to close the wound.

“Sorry,” She murmurs. Her eyes flicker to his.

Bucky just gives her a small smile in return. He hasn’t been cared for like this in a very long time. Her eyes fall back to her task. She cuts the leftover thread and ties the end as close to his skin as possible. She opens a package of gauze next.

“You scared me,” Rory confesses, carefully holding the cotton to his shoulder. “When you told me you got shot. It scared me.”

“I’m sorry, Rory,” He whispers, reaching up to carefully wrap his fingers around her wrist. “I didn’t mean too.”

There’s a moment where they fall silent. The same moment that’s been settling them between more recently than not. It feels heavy, loaded with some unspoken thing, as they continue to stare at each other; eyes locked and searching. Rory lifts her right hand, gently pushing stray hairs from his face behind his ear. The delicate graze of her fingers makes a shiver run down his spine, and warmth flood his chest, chasing away the cold void that’s been living in his chest for years.

Rory is closer than he remembers her being. His nose picking up on the smell of powdered sugar, fresh baked bread, and an underlying note of a scent that’s uniquely just her. Bucky’s eyes suddenly drop to her lips, her mouth parting open in an exhale. He wonders if her lips are as soft as they look; if she tastes anything like the desserts she makes.

A pounding heartbeat fills his ears, Bucky can’t be sure if it’s his own or not. Slowly, he lifts his eyes back to hers. Rory ’s own shifting as if she just had the same thoughts as he did. Then Rory blinks and the moment is gone, replaced by her ripping medical tape in half. Bucky’s touch lingers on her wrist as she finishes dressing his wound.

“There,” Rory breathes shakily. “All patched up.”

“Thanks,” Bucky has to clear the roughness from his throat. He checks out the bandage. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“My grandmother had a few bad falls,” She informs him just as quiet, beginning to wash her hands. “I took care of cleaning any cuts and bruises she had. Plus, she was nurse in World War Two in Hawaii. She taught me how to properly wound care, even stitch. Comes in handy with working at a restaurant too.”

“She sounded like one hell of a woman,” Bucky smiles at her as he begins to put on his shirt.

“She was amazing,” Rory agrees. She narrows her eyes at him. “Bucky, do not put that filthy shirt back on.”

He frowns. “I’m not going to walk back to the tower half naked.”

Rolling her eyes, she beckons him to follow her. “I should have some tee-shirts that will fit you.”

Once Bucky is in a rather comfortable tee-shirt, with the logo of the band Queen, he accepts the cup of water Rory hands him. She claims he has to stay hydrated and refuses to give him more coffee as she settles next to him on her couch.

They end up quietly enjoying each other’s company more than talking, but Bucky hides his grin each time their fingers brush. Or when Rory seems to press her thigh against his. Especially when Bucky’s exhaustion finally takes over and his head is suddenly against her shoulder, breathing deeply.

He’s aware enough to recognize the warmth of a soft throw blanket covering him. Aware enough to sigh contently when gentle fingers brush through is hair and makes his stomach tighten in the best way possible. As he drifts off, he fully accepts the utter crush he has on Rory .

When he wakes up several hours later, the golden light of dawn is peaking through her window in the living room. Bucky carefully maneuvers himself from his position from the corner of the couch. They must of both moved during the night, for Rory is now half curled up on the opposite side.

Bucky can feel how soft his expression is as he takes the blanket and places it over her. He can’t resist brushing her hair back and leaning down to place the lightest kiss to her head. He quietly leaves her apartment, sending her a text for when she wakes up.

When Bucky arrives home, Wanda is sitting at the kitchen island, a cup of tea in her hand. She likes to do yoga early in the morning, to which Bucky will never understand waking up that early. She raises her eyebrows at him as he waves, ignoring her knowing look.

“How’s Rory?” Wanda inquires lightly, taking a sip afterwards.

Bucky balks, but covers it up by quickly grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl. He does lift a hand to his shoulder, over the dressings covering his wound.

“Sleeping,” He ends up answering honestly.

Wanda hums. “Nice shirt.”

“Nothing happened,” Bucky defends.

“I know,” She pauses. “When are you asking her out?”

Bucky just waves, pretending he didn’t hear her. If he wasn’t so terrified of Rory ’s possible reaction, he would ask her. He just has to work up his courage first.

**

Rory has felt light on her feet for the past two days some reason. Might be due to the other night, when Bucky allowed her to take care of him, and falling asleep on her shoulder. Currently she’s invoicing another pastry order behind the bar, trying to ignore Bucky waiting for yet another date.

“Rory .”

The defeated voice behind her immediately raises her hackles. Her heart already aching for this sweet, sweet man. She abandons her task, turning to face him. Bucky looks…_hurt_.

“Alright. Whose ass am I kicking?” Rory threatens seriously.

“She walked in. Saw me. Left,” He shrugs, placing ten dollars on the countertop. “That’s for the drinks. I’ll see you next time. Maybe, probably not. I’m done with this.”

“Bucky, wait. Let me-“

“No, Rory , really. You’re way too kind for someone who’s way too pathetic. Undatable. Figured as much, just thought I’d give it a go.”

“Stop it!” She snaps fervently, grabbing his left hand as begins to walk away. “You are not pathetic or-“

“Really. I’m fine, you don’t have to take pity on me anymore,” Bucky snips, pulling his arm back and pressing it to his body.

“_Pity_? You think I pitied you?” A flash of hurt churns in her stomach.

“Goodbye, Rory .”

Bucky barely looks at her as he says it, rushing out of the bistro. It stuns Rory to her spot for several moments. Belatedly she knows that the entire restaurant is probably staring at her, having witnessed what just happened.

Rory moves her feet, running towards the door and out onto the street. She searches for Bucky, his retreating back or even the motorcycle he sometimes takes. She sees nothing. No sign of him walking away, no people hastily avoiding his path.

“Bucky!” She shouts, just in case there’s a chance he can hear her.

But he’s nowhere to be seen. She’s about to go back into the bistro, crestfallen and hurt, when Rory hears an overly fake laugh over the noisy street. She thinks nothing of it until the same voice starting speaking.

“I know! I should alert the media. The monster known as the Winter Soldier on a date! As if he has a chance of anyone loving _that_. How pathetic.”

Anger rushes through Rory ’s veins, making her fist curl into balls. She starts looking for the voice as her breath quickens. Maybe it would be a good thing for Rory not to pinpoint them; might end with a fist to the face.

“I mean, sure, he is hot. I might have overlooked everything else just to fuck him, if it weren’t for that hideous arm.”

Found her. Rory zeros in on a woman talking into her phone as if she didn’t just say disgustingly horrible things. She sees red, bumping into people as she speed walks over to the girl. She has cruses on her tongue and boiling blood in her veins, nearly close enough.

“Hey! You fucking asshole!” Rory shouts. Abruptly, Rory is yanked into an alleyway next to the bistro.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Someone hisses at her.

Rory glares at Kyle, one of the bartenders and waiters. He has a bag of trash in one hand, her elbow in the other. He looks past her, making sure the woman isn’t investigating. He shoots Rory a hard look.

“You’re the owner of Rikki’s,” He continues reasonably. “The restaurant she was just in. If you yell at her, it could backfire.”

Yanking her elbow out of his grip, she frowns. “You didn’t just her what she was saying about Bucky! It was…Kyle, it was disgusting. He doesn’t deserve for anyone to say anything like that about him!”

“Rory," Kyle drops the bag and puts his hands on her shoulders. “You’re right. He doesn’t deserve whatever she said, or being laughed at-“

“She _laughed_ at him!?” Rory makes to find the girl again, but Kyle holds her in place.

“Calm down,” He tells with her evenly. “Forget that horrible person. I know you like Bucky, but you can’t start a fist-fight in the middle of the street right in front of Rikki’s.”

Rory inhales deeply. “You’re right.” Suddenly the anger drains out of her, and her heart breaks. Tears sting at her eyes when she remembers Bucky’s dejected expression

“Fuck.”

“It’s better to go after Bucky, then land yourself jail,” He says wisely.

“He left.”

“You have his number, don’t you?”

Once they go back inside, Rory heads up to her office. She tries calling Bucky, but he doesn’t answer. She calls him three more times, and they all go to voice mail. Rory ’s heart sinks to her feet.

**

Six days pass. Six days pass without any contact from Bucky at all. Rory has called and texted, all her attempts going unanswered. She even promised him two of every dessert in the display case if he would just let her know he’s alright.

Nothing.

Rory is close to hiring a carrier pigeon to send to the tower. Her anger at the situation has dissipated, just sorrow and hurt stabbing at her chest and twisting sickeningly in her stomach. She just hopes that Bucky doesn’t truly believe the words he said to her.

She hopes that his friends in the Avengers tower are there to encourage him. To comfort him. To remind Bucky that he is worthy of so many things, and that includes love from another person.

As Rory pours herself another glass of wine in her kitchen, she’s struck with an idea. The Avengers Tower. She abandons her wine in search of her phone and begins to change out of sweatpants into a pair of jeans. She finds the number she’s looking for and calls.

**

The new Avengers compound is just as impressive as the old one. At least this location is closer than the last one, and it only took her a thirty-minute cab ride and large dent in her pocket to get here. Maybe moving into the new building was what kept Bucky from responding to her. Somehow, Rory doesn’t believe that’s true.

She was able to get a hold of Wanda Maximoff. Both women exchanged numbers after the Avengers came to Rikki’s that night. Wanda relays the message to Sam Wilson, who lets Rikki into the new building, bypassing any security protocols.

Sam greets her with a gleeful smile. Especially after her takes the three white boxes she has from her arms.

“Thank god! You’re all he’s ever talked about for the past three months,” Sam whispers.

“What?” Rory asks bemused.

“Always about the gorgeous bistro owner, who is way too good for him. So he just continues to go on those dates, pretending like someone else was out there for him.”

She narrows her eyes. “Weren’t you the one that convince him to go on those dates anyway?”

Sam clears his throat as he leads her into the living quarters. “You got me there. We were just worried about him. I swear it was coming from a good place.”

“I know,” Rory reassures. But then her attitude changes bitterly. “Could’ve found better dates though.”

“Yeah. I heard the last one wasn’t good.”

“She was horrible,” Rory mutters under her breath. “Where’s-“

She stops in her tracks as they pass a wall. Except, it’s not a wall; it’s a mural. A beautiful memorial of Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff. A sad reminder that they gave their lives to save the world and bring everyone back from the snap that changed everything.

Rory lifts her hand and gently presses it against the wall, her own little notion of thanking them. Sam stands back, allowing her to have a moment. When she moves on, she sees another memorial mural of Steve Rogers.

His is a little different, considering he’s still alive and very old, living somewhere else. She wonders in the back of her mind, if Bucky even knows where he is. He’s never mentioned it before. Right. Bucky. She’s here for Bucky. She smiles at Sam and steps back, continuing to follow him.

“He’s taken to moping on the balcony lately,” Sam informs her quietly as they enter the living space.

He points adjacent to the kitchen to a set of sliding doors. Rory thanks him and walks through the living room. She would be impressed with how beautiful the home is, with its sleek technology and cozy looking blankets. Not to mention the giant kitchen.

But as she sees a dark figure in the shadows through the doors, only one thing is one her mind. Rory , as silently as she can, slides the door open enough or her to slip through. She closes it behind her.

Bucky must be distracted or lost in his own mind, because he doesn’t hear her approach. It gives Rory an amazing opportunity for some payback. She opens the decent sized purse she brought with her, pulling out a breadstick. She lifts her arm, aims and throws it at him. The bread hits him perfectly on the back of the head.

He spins around, glowering, probably thinking it was Sam or someone else. But his expression freezes in shock when he sees her. Bucky blinks. His eyes sparkle like the moon reflecting off the ocean, and it has Rory ’s heart racing. He looks so handsome, and so surprised to see her. She takes a step closer.

“I don’t pity you,” Rory tells him, dropping her bag and crossing her arms.

“Rory,” Bucky finally speaks. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You ran out. You ran out and ignored each of my calls and texts. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He wipes his metal hand down his face, guilt flooded in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Rory . I just needed to- and we moved in here and I-“

He breaks off with a shrug.

“I do not pity you. I never have, Bucky.”

Now a flash of hurt crosses his face. “I know that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Rory takes a few more steps, standing two feet from him now. “You aren’t pathetic either. A glutton for pastries, sure. But not pathetic or undatable.”

He barely cracks a smile. “Rory -“

“No,” She hold her hand up and shortens the space between them again. “You said goodbye to me like it was the last time you’d ever see me. You ran out. You ignored me.

“I know you were hurt, Bucky. That you were feeling horrible. She was an asshole, Bucky. You don’t deserve someone like that, to do what she did. You deserve someone who truly wants you and wants to be with you. Accepts you for every beautiful thing that you are.”

“Rory ,” He tries again. He suddenly pulls her into a hug, face hidden in her neck, arms tight around her shoulders.

“You know you could’ve talked to me, right? I never ever pitied you,” Rory reminds him gently.

He nods. “I know, doll, I know. I just…I felt embarrassed that it happened in front of you.”

“What?”

Bucky pulls back, hands lingers on her shoulders before dropping them.

“I’ve had a few bad days. Got it in my head that if that’s how she reacted to me, would you-“ He inhales sharply, pushing his hair back. He’s looking at the ground.

“I thought that maybe, you might do the same one day. It’s horrible to think that of you, Rory . It’s why I didn’t get back to you.”

“Bucky,” Rory breathes. “Look at me, please.”

When he does, she gives him a gentle smile. “I would never make you feel like that. You should never feel like that from anyone. I just wanted to be there for you, even if you had those bad days.”

“I know, Rory . I am deeply sorry about it all.”

“Don’t apologize, really,” She reaches out to squeeze his hand. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better, now that you’re here,” He says shyly. “I swear I was going to call you tonight. I think,” He breaks off to chuckles bitterly. “I think I’m done with dating.”

“That’s a shame. I think you’re just dating the wrong people.”

Bucky tilts his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Inhaling and steeling her nerves, Rory smiles brightly. “Bucky, will you go on a date with me?”

“Excuse me?” He breathes. Rolling her eyes, she cups each side of his face.

“I’m asking you, Bucky, Sergeant Barnes, the Winter Soldier. James. The man who loves wedding cookies and pizzelles with extra powdered sugar. The man who cheats at two-card draw, even though he fully knows I always kick his ass anyway. The one who thought being shot six times was no big deal.

“Will you, go on a date with me? Please?”

A small grin graces his pretty lips. Bucky lifts his left hand to her cheek, his thumb swiping over her bottom lip. Rory closes her eyes, reveling in the feeling of the cool metal. He tilts her chin up slightly, her eyes opening to meet his. The tender look in those incredible gray-blue eyes make her heart race.

Bucky wraps his arm around her waist pulling her to his body. Rory feels his chest rising in falling faster than usual, the anticipation matching her own. He searches her eyes for a few more moments. She hopes he can see how much she cares for him, how much she likes him, in her eyes.

Finally, Bucky closes the distance between them. His soft lips meet hers in an innocent, tender kiss. It’s like a fire sparks to life in her heart, racing through her veins and makes her stomach scream with joy. She hears a soft little sigh come from Bucky as she melts into him.

When they slowly break away, he presses his forehead against hers.

“Is that a yes?” Rory quips, brushing her fingers through his hair.

Bucky chuckles, nudging his nose against hers. “Yes. I would love too, Rory .” He pushes her hair back behind her ear.

Rory beams at him, leaning in again to taste him once more. He kisses her with more passion, lips molding against lips, tongues tentatively peeking out to get a feel of each other’s mouths. Bucky turns her slightly to support her against the railing, gently squeezing her hip as she wraps her arms around his neck.

They break apart after a few seconds, minutes, maybe hours; Rory doesn’t know. Too wrapped up in Bucky. His smell, his touch, his gentle yet thorough kisses, how soft and plush his mouth is. Rory sighs in content, slipping her hand from his neck down to his chest. His heart is pounding.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” Bucky confesses breathlessly. “I started to think of you all the time.”

“You should’ve just asked me out, silly,” Rory chuckles softly. “Clearly, I would’ve said yes.”

Bucky leans in to kiss her again, deeply, thoroughly. It makes the air leave her lungs. He steals the breath from his lung as he pulls back once more. Just barely.

“Does this mean,” Bucky whispers against her lips. “That I get Italian wedding cookies all the time now?”

Rory laughs against his mouth, her kisses more like open mouth giggles. “Whatever you want, Bucky.”

He kisses her twice more before Rory pushes him back. “No breadsticks though.”

“As if, sweetheart.” Bucky’s smile lights up the night

The rest of the evening has Rory exploring the tower, mainly Bucky’s room. Mainly Bucky’s bed, limbs tangled together as they fight over who gets the last cannoli Rory had brought over. It ends with mini chocolate chips scattered in the sheets, and powdered sugar kissed lips.

**********************************************************************************************************

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for reading!  
I really struggled writing this one because I've been having a horrible spout of writers block. I hope it was okay.  
Love you all! <3


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